


Sojourn

by infinite drabblets (tonikah)



Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Romance, Slice of Life, idolverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-03-06 21:23:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13419915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonikah/pseuds/infinite%20drabblets
Summary: Woohyun escapes to Japan to work in a restaurant during the contract negotiation period, and meets someone who makes things more complicated for him.





	1. Chapter 1

“Woohyun-san, one order of set A please!”

“Hai~~ !”

Woohyun was thankful for the anonymity of the kitchen uniform. The mask, the hat – these were all familiar to him, except that now he was no longer wearing such items in the context of his life as an idol. Such accoutrements used to serve as his defence against many things, protecting himself from the cold air, yes, but often as a means of hiding an unshaven face free of make-up, or simply just hiding. 

There was a slight disjunct then, in being equally covered up by the kitchen uniform, but no longer feeling overwhelmed by attention. No phones in his face, trailing him wherever he went, no glares of flash bulbs. No fear of a nosy reporter or a sasaeng. 

No questions. No judgement.

The idea to leave Seoul for a while had come to him out of the blue one afternoon. He had been walking towards Boohyun’s place, feeling helpless and low, when he heard the roar of a plane flying overhead. He looked up, and saw the aircraft curving across the vast expanse of the sky, and eventually disappearing into the clouds.

That’s when he realised that he needed to get away. After all, what was the point of staying in Seoul if it meant aimless days, waiting on other people’s decisions, wondering what the press would say today, worrying about what the fans were thinking today, and generally living in limbo. He just wanted to be as far removed as possible from what his day-to-day life had become.

Which was why he ended up pulling a favour from a Japanese friend of his, who managed to get him a discreet gig helping out at this restaurant.

It was a nice change of scene. The eatery was along the commuter train line from Tokyo up into the mountains, but at one of the smaller towns which was mainly filled with long-term residents rather than tourists. It was owned by his friend’s elderly uncle, who ran the place more as a hobby and a way of keeping his mind and life active, rather than as a necessary source of income. It was the kind of relaxed joint serving predictable but good food, with regulars coming back again and again. 

It had been about 2 weeks since he came to Japan. Working at the restaurant helped to keep him and his mind occupied. He was enjoying the process of learning to cook new dishes, but if he were to be honest with himself, the meditative mundanity of taking orders, counting change, doling out miso soup, pouring green tea, serving dishes and washing up, were in themselves comforting. The background buzz of other people’s conversations, the tinny enka music from the owner’s stereo, the clacking of tracks and the rumble of trains as they went past in the distance… All these helped shut out the voices in his head.

When he told Sunggyu of his decision, Sunggyu had looked at him squarely, arms akimbo, trying to read his face to decide whether he was serious about this harebrained plan (“You are going to do what? Go to where to wash dishes??”). But after a minute, his shoulders dropped and he sighed, saying that he understood and would talk to Jungyeop-hyungnim, and that he would phone Woohyun when everything had been settled, or had otherwise settled down.

Sunggyu knew it had been hard. It had been hard on all of them, but Woohyun faced his own unfortunate set of problems aside from the contract issues, and it would have been no bad thing to simply leave the country for a while. 

The sliding door at the entrance opened, and everyone shouted out a cheery “Irrashaimase!” A young lady walked in, a little tentatively. Woohyun was still familiarising himself with the regulars, but could tell from everyone’s reaction that she was not one of them. The owner’s wife went over to greet her and after ascertaining that she was here on her own, ushered her over to small table by a window, overlooking the garden by the side of the restaurant.

Woohyun didn’t really pay much attention to the new guest, and went about his tasks as usual. After she had gotten up and left, Woohyun went over to clear the table, and was surprised to find a carefully folded paper star sitting on the place mat. Looking at the little star more closely, he recognised part of the restaurant’s name on it, and realised that she had made it out of the paper sleeve that the chopsticks came in.

This wasn’t the first time that a customer had left a folded chopstick sleeve behind after a meal. He had initially been surprised to see such wrappers, often just folded a few times like an accordion (and probably absentmindedly while chatting over a meal), some times with a more defined shape, such as knot. Woohyun had assumed that these were simply the product of restless hands, though he had also heard that some people had used these as a little gesture of thanks. Either way, he found the occurrence quirky and charming.

This however, was the first time he had seen something so deliberate, and artistic. The neat little star was almost poetically placed towards the bottom corner of the mat, like a rock in a zen garden.

Woohyun cleared the table of its cutlery and crockery, wiped it down, and replaced the place mat. The paper star found its way into his pocket, and later onto the top of the chest of drawers at his little rented flat.

The lady subsequently started coming once or twice a week, and she mostly sat at the same table by the window, unless it was already taken. She often ordered whatever was the set meal for the day, and while she would occasionally look at her phone and perhaps answer a message, she seemed absorbed in her own world, and her meal. And always, without fail, she left a little paper sculpture made from the chopstick sleeve in her stead. Once, there had been a flower, and another time a seal. Most recently, there had been a squid, its tentacles carefully crafted by tearing part of the thin wrapper into shreds. 

He stole glances at her whenever she came, intrigued. Her meal times were almost a ritual. She would eat her meal quietly, and then after she was almost done, and was left with only her green tea, she would start folding the chopstick wrapper with purpose. It was almost as if she had spent the duration of her meal plotting out the lines and folds in her head, to be executed smoothly once the end of the meal drew near. He was mesmerised by her delicate, precise motions, and her slender fingers pressing and coaxing the wrapper into something completely different from its original flat, rectangular form. 

Where had she learned to do all that, Woohyun wondered. Surely it was a lot less straightforward than folding square origami paper. It must be something she just did all the time, learnt through countless repetitions. 

Of course, he didn’t just watch her when she was folding the paper sleeves - he started noticing other things about her too. He liked the way her cheeks puffed out when she blew on her spoon to cool down the steaming hot soup, and the way her eyebrows would furrow just a little when she was in the midst of her wrapper folding. He smiled to himself when he saw her laughing at the owner and his wife bickering and grumbling affectionately at each other. And he especially liked the way she bundled her hair up into a bun before she started eating - he found his gaze lingering just a little bit longer at the gentle nape of her neck whenever she did so. 

With time, he found himself placing her cup of tea and rearranging her place settings to her left whenever she came, as he had noticed she was left handed. He saw that she always finished her pickled cucumbers but usually left some of the pickled daikon behind, so he would try to make sure that she had a larger helping of the cucumber pickles, if he was in the position to do so. He started to check that there was always an extra seat adjacent to her at the table, so that she could place her handbag on it instead of slung precariously on the back of her chair.

For someone who was more accustomed to overt, over the top declarations of affection through hearts and aegyo, Woohyun realised that he was somehow, falling for her, even though they had never really spoken. Their interactions had so far been limited to a few words about her order, a quiet thanks if he was the one to bring her food or tea over, or a polite goodbye once she was done. 

Even as he grew more drawn to her, Woohyun never made a move to approach her. Wasn’t anonymity the reason he was here in the first place? This was all just a temporary state of affairs. In a blink of an eye, he would be back in Seoul, back to his idol life, far away from here, from her. No, he just simply didn’t see the point of approaching her. There was no room for attachment or emotion in all this. 

As the weeks passed however, Seoul and his idol life there all started to feel like a dream. He had even given song writing a break, and chose instead to familiarize himself with the various enka and kayokyoku tunes that he heard in the restaurant. 

He increasingly felt compelled to keep his mask on whenever he was at work, even when it was not necessary, but especially when she was around. There was something about her that made him long to sit down next to her and look into her eyes, and speak about everything and nothing, but he knew shouldn’t. It oddly felt like he was hiding all over again. 

Nonetheless, he continued to collect all her little paper sculptures, and each time, he would place them carefully on top of the wooden chest of drawers. After a while, it had become quite the menagerie. 

They finally spoke at greater length to each other one sunny afternoon. 

Woohyun had been outside of the restaurant, on a smoke break. He had hardly smoked back in Korea, only occasionally taking one of Sunggyu’s if it had been a particularly stressful day. However, the owner often took smoke breaks, as did the other people around him, so it became a ritual, to step out to the back, remove his mask for a little while, and have a smoke break. 

He was sat as usual on one of the larger rocks out in the garden, observing a line of ants marching into a patch of grass in front of him, his cigarette hanging limply between his fingers, when she came over.

“Hi there, can I borrow a light? I forgot to bring mine.”

She settled down next to him, and as she leaned over to light her cigarette, her face almost touching his hand where he shielded the flame from his lighter from the breeze, he caught a whiff of her light, floral perfume and almost felt giddy. 

She turned away slightly to exhale a trail of smoke into the air, and then looked back at Woohyun.

“This is the first time I’m seeing you without a mask.”

“I… yes,” he stumbled, suddenly losing his words. “Sorry, I’m not from here, and I’m still working on my Japanese.”

Between his faltering language skills and his bare face, Woohyun suddenly felt naked and vulnerable, under her steady gaze.

“I wouldn’t have guessed it,” she said warmly to him. He felt his chest expanding, almost exploding. 

There were some slightly awkward silences in between, but they managed to chat and find out a bit about each other. Woohyun explained that he was here as he needed some time away from Korea (fortunately, she didn’t seem to recognise him or feel the need to ask what he did back in Seoul) and she told him that she had started visiting her grandmother, who wasn’t very well, on a more regular basis, since her mother wasn’t able to do so at the moment. 

All too quickly, they finished their cigarettes. She got up, dusting off her skirt. 

“Thanks for the light”, she smiled at him, “and it was nice chatting.” She waved goodbye, and his eyes followed her as she walked off. 

Woohyun could feel his heart beating as he remembered how closely they were sat next to each other, and how much he had relaxed and forgotten about his mask after awhile. He took out the little paper bird from his pocket that he had kept from earlier, and gazed at it, a hundred thoughts running through his mind. This was definitely not what he had come to Japan for.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is all fluff and essentially filler, which I felt was needed to set up the evolution of Woohyun's feelings. Based on how things are going, I think the next chapter will be the last one.
> 
> UPDATE 180220: After mulling over this, I’ve decided edit to add an extra paragraph (not plot-related) to explicate Woohyun’s feelings. I'm going to allow this for myself this time, but will definitely avoid doing this in the future.

The next time she came came by the restaurant, Woohyun studiously avoided her gaze, busying himself with the washing up and chores at the back. However, his distracted mind kept turning towards her.

He had found himself conflicted in the days following that first smoke break in the back garden, both looking forward to seeing her again, and dreading it slightly at the same time. He had hoped that he’d be able to speak to her again, and yet also wondered if he even should (his inner voice of reason kept telling him he shouldn’t). Not to mention that nagging insecurity that tugged at him, that she was just being friendly and he alone was stuck with all the emotions churning within him just from that one casual meeting.

He relaxed when he heard the owners saying their goodbyes to her, but then felt wistful as he cleared up her table (and pocketing the little paper snail she had left behind that day). He felt silly for acting like some little school boy who didn’t know how to act around his crush. In desperate need for some air, he headed to the back garden after he was done.

Except, there she was, perched on a rock, cigarette in hand. He couldn’t help the smile curling up the corners of his mouth at the sight of her.

She turned her head when she heard his footsteps crunching on the gravel. “Oh! Hi.”

“Hi….”

“This is a nice place to have a smoke, so I thought I’d have one here before catching the train. Hope it’s ok?”

“Yes, of course.”

They spoke a little about how her grandmother was doing that day (she’s getting better), and how he was liking Japan (it’s different from being tourist, but still nice). And as before, the awkwardness slowly melted away as he listened to her speak, and as he felt the way she paid attention to him and his words as he spoke haltingly.

——————————————

Thereafter, a little routine emerged whenever she came by the restaurant. She would go round to the back after she had finished her meal, and he would join her once he was done with whatever needed doing. Each time, after a smoke and a chat, they would bid each other a polite goodbye, and he would watch her walk away.

He started using a translation app on his phone to help him when he couldn’t think of the right words, and slowly but surely, their conversations started to expand beyond the prosaic. They discussed the books that they were reading (he talked about his current favourite book, 3AM, and she shared that she was in the midst of 1Q84), and then also started giving each other song recommendations, her being especially eager to expose him to the wider reaches of 80s and 90s j-pop and rock. She told him about the cycling trails around the area since he liked cycling, and he told her about the differences between Korean and Japanese food, and his experiences in the kitchen.

He heard about her troubles at work, and how she had decided to resign from her banking job, only to find that she now had to assist in a regulatory investigation against her bosses for the rest of her time there. He felt her weariness at the questioning and the suspicious glances from colleagues, whenever she went in to speak with the investigators. He identified with her when she talked about waiting for her notice period to end so that she could move on, saying that he was going through similar experiences of being in limbo, though he managed to avoid explaining exactly what he did back home.

He felt his days settle into a regularity that he found almost novel, and comforting. The predictability of knowing that there was somewhere to go and something to do every day. Days that were not dominated by having to think of what others would say or write. As long he did the chores allocated to him, there was nothing more asked of him. Not to mention, the freedom to actually sit outside with a girl, and smoke and chat. 

Ah yes, being with a girl. This girl, whose presence and voice felt like warm sunshine. Whose origami works he faithfully collected and displayed on his chest of drawers like little treasures. There were times when she spoke where he would look at her, and see a world that could be his. But then, he would remember who he was, and what he was, and tell himself that he couldn’t let his feelings for her grow any further.

As such, he made sure not to let all his walls down. He still wore a mask when working, and was still incredibly careful not to reveal much about himself. In fact, they never actually introduced themselves to each other. Neither did they ever call each other by their names, even though he had come to know her as Takahashi-san (as that’s how the owners referred to her). He also reckoned that she would have known his name by now, as people called out to him during service.

Perhaps it was because their interactions were limited to formal exchanges in the restaurant, and those times when they smoked out at the back. Either way, he felt an illusion of anonymity that he found reassuring. Perhaps they could just remain strangers passing in the day, rather like ships passing in the night.

As time passed, Woohyun decided not to think too much about it, and just enjoy the meetings for what he told himself they were - no more than shared smoke breaks. Though, If he had been completely honest with himself, they were becoming more than that. Their smoking sessions had started to end with him asking when she was going to visit her grandmother again, and she would give him a date, “Oh probably Wednesday”, or “I think it’ll be Saturday afternoon”. A date set to visit her grandmother eventually became a tacit promise to come to the restaurant, and thereby a promise to meet again.

She always kept to her dates, and he found himself counting off the days to the next time he would see her.

——————————————

The summer rain came as they were outside one day, talking about origami.

The air had been still and thick with humidity, and the garden was unusually quiet. Soon after they had finished lighting their cigarettes, the skies opened and the rain started pelting down in sheets. They ducked under the eaves of the building, and settled down on the floor, their cigarettes still in hand. 

He learned that she had been in the origami club in school, and it had became a little habit and challenge for her to make a little creation from the chopstick wrapper each time she ate out.

“It’s not the same as a square, but you can still fold or tear it so it becomes more usable. For example, I could tear it into two and fold the individual pieces to join them up. But yes, I’ve been doing this for years now.”

Chopstick wrappers were more challenging, but could be manipulated, and once she had figured out the dimensions, she could work out various forms that she could construct. She mused, saying that it could be quite meditative in its own way, because you were concentrating on folding with precision, especially so with an non-origami standard piece of paper.

“With origami, you can memorise the movements and proportions, I found that you could almost do it mindlessly after a while. With chopstick wrappers, they are all a little bit different in proportion, and the patterns, logos and artwork all differ in shape, size, positioning. All these are things to consider when you are folding. So I like the challenge of having to respond to the material before me. The level of engagement is very different.”

Woohyun looked at her. “It sounds like there is a life lesson in there.”

"I suppose there might be. Actually, what I do think is that it’s a good way of emptying your mind.”

“Do you feel the need to?”

“Yes, sometimes. I do try not to let things get to me, but even if I try not to, I find my head filling with thoughts about the job and the bank, or things at home, or my grandma. So yes, there are some things I’d rather not think about.” she said with a half smile.

Woohyun exhaled a cloud of smoke thoughtfully. “I could use some origami in my life too then.”

Her eyes brightened, “I could teach you! Let me show you something really easy to start with. Do you think you could let me use a chopstick sleeve?”

He went into the restaurant briefly and returned with a spare chopstick wrapper, and watched as she folded the paper in half along its length, and after pressing the paper into a knot on one end, folded it repeatedly in layers until it formed a perfect pentagon. He watched in wonder as the star miraculously took shape before his eyes as she carefully dented each side of the pentagon, to form the five points of a star, the same one that she had made during her first visit to the restaurant that had so captivated him. 

“That’s one of the easiest things to make from a long rectangular piece of paper,” as she pushed the star towards him, “It doesn’t take much time though so I wouldn’t say it’s one of those pieces that help distract you. But it’s raining, so anything else would have a bit more challenging to execute with all this wind.”

He looked at the little star, and then at his slightly stubby fingers, roughened with kitchen work. "I don’t think I have the right hands for this,” he said, stretching his hand out in front of him. 

She chuckled. "Anyone can do origami”, and to his surprise, she reached out and took his hand into hers carefully, grasping his palm and bringing his hand close to her, and examining it. She added, softly, “Anyway, I think your hands are just right.”

Before he could think, Woohyun allowed his warm fingers to wrap around her hand, feeling the cold in her fingers fade. They sat silently hand in hand as they let their cigarettes burn down, the smoke melding and curling upwards before dissipating into the rain.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter deals with some of Woohyun's darker thoughts and anxiety, which could potentially be triggering. Also, as a precaution, I would also rate this chapter an [M] for references to sex (a very light touch though!).

It was the height of the Japanese summer, and Woohyun had developed an intense craving for naengmyun.

Yes, there are cooling summer foods in Japan too. The restaurant had now switched to its summer menu, and people seemed to order nothing but cold somen and hiyashi chuka. But as the worst of the summer heat and mugginess set in, Woohyun could almost taste his mother’s naengmyun - the chewy buckwheat noodles in an icy, slushy broth, the cool crunch of korean pear and cucumbers, and the earthy, spicy kick of gochujang and kimchi he so sorely missed.

And of course that made Woohyun miss his mother, and then the rest of his family, and that got him thinking about Sunggyu, and each of the members, and everything that was happening back in Seoul. It occurred to him that he had been living in a kind of suspended reality while things may have moved on (or possibly not) back home.

When he had decided to get out of Seoul for awhile, there had been no light at the end of the tunnel in sight. He wondered how everything was going now.

Woohyun had resolved from the outset not to check any kind of social media or news once he got to Japan, and while it had been hard at first, he had managed to restrain himself. He established a new routine, occupying his time and mind with all things Japanese, both at work and at home, and eventually stopped noticing its absence. Till now.

All this time, he had simply trusted that Sunggyu would let him know if there was any news or when any decision had been made. But now, he felt an itch arise within him. Time had passed, hadn’t it? Maybe things had changed. He gave into his curiosity and went online.

That had been a mistake.

He soon lost himself in that toxic world, scrolling down line after line of comments, drowning himself in a mire of negativity, speculation, and baseless accusations. So much fighting, so much doubt and anger, so many pleas, so many questions. He felt himself spiral into a black fog as he clicked on page after page, and yet, he couldn’t stop himself. The next thing he knew, the sun was coming up, and he hadn’t slept a wink.

He turned up at the restaurant, having downed several shots of coffee, but there was no hiding the dark circles and ashy skin from his sleepless night. He waved off the concerned looks and queries from everyone the best he could, assuring them he was fine. But the truth was that he wasn’t fine, not at all. The comments he had read streamed through his mind like an endless ticker tape of criticism and questions with no answers. Anxiety wrapped its claws around every fibre of his being.

Perhaps it was no wonder then, his mind thus diverted, that he ended up accidentally cutting himself while chopping onions. And as he watched the blood swirl in the sink together with the running water as he washed out the wound, he wondered again, why he always did this to himself.

The owner’s wife, Mrs. Kobayashi, had kindly suggested that he take a break, and so he went outside after wrapping the injury up. He sat out back, riddled with embarrassment and beating himself up over how quickly he had descended back down into that pit within himself.

Lost in his own dark thoughts, he had practically forgotten that Takahashi-san had said she would be coming by that day.

She sat down next to him without saying anything. After awhile, she took his bandaged hand, just as carefully as she had that day in the rain, and examined it worriedly.

“Are you ok?”

Woohyun couldn’t bring himself to look at her. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t trust himself to keep his composure, and stared stonily into the distance.

“Does it hurt?”

And at that moment, Woohyun had no idea what to say, because _everything_ hurt.

For the first time, he wished he was anywhere else but next to her. He should be alone, all alone. Wasn’t that why he had come to Japan in the first place - to be away from everyone and everything? He thought about getting up, making his excuses, and leaving. But just as he was about to do so, she got up first, and he thought for a moment that she was about to leave, perhaps to give him some privacy. Instead, he felt a soft warmth envelop his back as she leant into him, her slender arms wrapping around his.

The back of his t-shirt was damp with sweat, but she pressed herself close, her head resting against the nape of his neck. The tendrils of her hair tickled his ear and cheek as they were blown by a mild breeze. He could feel the rise and fall of her chest on his back as she held him, her breathing steady.

Then, after a long while, she broke the silence with a whisper that melted right through his whole existence. “It’ll be ok… it will all be ok.”

Hot tears welled up rapidly in his eyes and then spilled over, falling like rain and wetting his shirt, her arms that were wrapped around his, and both their hands. She tightened her arms around him, as if they would keep him from falling apart.

He realised then, as a wave of relief spread through his body, that it had been a long time since he last cried. Even during those gloomy days in Seoul, when he was full of despair, tears didn’t come. And even during the times when he wished he could find some release by weeping his heart out, it felt like he didn’t deserve to cry.

He had literally displaced himself in an attempt to avoid facing more unwanted attention, and more than anything, having to deal with his own destructive thoughts. But they had lain there dormant in the recesses of his mind, along with the echoes of what people have said, were saying or what he was absolutely certain they were going to say, just waiting for the right moment to erupt and conquer his entire being.

She moved away from him briefly to find some tissues from her handbag, and he still couldn’t bear to look at her when she returned to his side, wiping away the wetness from his arms. As she raised her hand to dry the tears on his face, he turned towards her, intending to take the tissue and do it himself, but instead stopped when he looked into her eyes - her gaze was so gentle. And then, when he grasped her hand to try and stop her, she persisted, murmuring, “It’s ok…just, just let me,” and he let her care for him as she patted away the trails of tears on his face.

They stayed like that for awhile after, her hand still in his, her other arm linked in his. She rubbed soothing circles on his arm as they sat in the quiet.

“How did you know?” Woohyun asked, finally.

“What do you mean?”

“Just now, when you....” He took a breath, not knowing exactly what he wanted to say. “It’s like you knew I needed something like that.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I mean, I know it has been tough for you, even if I don’t know exactly what you are going through. I know that you are here for a reason, and I can see that you are suffering inside. And when I saw the way you were today, I just…. I just felt like you needed it.”

It was then that he realised that for all his attempts at hiding himself and creating a distance, this woman had somehow reached beyond all that, right into him. She had penetrated all those artificial walls that he had tried to put up, walls and masks which have turned out to be useless and pointless. She saw past everything, and somehow knew what he needed even without him having to say anything at all.

It occurred to him that maybe the point of coming to Japan wasn’t really to escape or hide. Maybe what he really needed was to find some peace and build up himself up again. To find a measure of normalcy and remember what it was like to live his life while being present in the moment, instead of being trapped in his own mind with worries that were out of his control. To feel comfortable in his own skin again, and just, be.

And through all this, she had been there, never asking anything of him, supporting him in ways he didn’t know he needed or wanted, and he was suddenly filled with intense gratitude.

He sat there staring at her in silence for some time, as his thoughts tumbled one over the other through his mind, and she smiled and tilted her head to the side in askance. When he emerged from his reverie, he pulled her in, wrapping his arms around her in a hug.

“Thank you” he said, his nose in her hair and inhaling that now familiar clean floral scent that was all her, as he felt her arms come around him as well. And then, as their faces brushed against each other, they allowed their lips to meet like it was the most natural thing in the world, and Woohyun felt something bloom deep within him, a feeling that felt so very right.

He pulled away after awhile, and with a crooked smile on his face, he got up to kneel back on his legs, and bowed.

“I’m Nam Woohyun. Douzo yoroshiku onegaishimasu.”

It took her a moment to realise what he was doing, and she tried rather unsuccessfully to stifle the giggles escaping her. She too, got into a kneeling position, and then bowed as well.

“I’m Takahashi Yume. Douzo yoroshiku onegaishimasu.”

 

* * *

 

It was not as if he had completely forgotten about Seoul or pushed it out of his mind, but Woohyun now felt lighter and freer than he had in long time. When he allowed himself to open up to Yume, his world opened up as well. He finally felt able to reveal what he did back in Korea, and how he ended up working at the restaurant. Even without going into the details of every single troubled development of the last few months, he felt an easing of his soul as she listened to him share a little more about himself, his life and his worries.

It helped that Yume never asked anything more of him, and never probed beyond what he was willing to say of his own volition, and because of that, he felt himself relax even further. He did the same for her, and they managed to maintain a level of openness that the both of them could be comfortable with, and yet find comforting.

From time to time, anxiety and doubt would creep into his mind when he thought about Seoul, or about having to leave her one day, but Yume would persuade him not to think too much about it, and to simply enjoy whatever they had now. As such, he began to immerse himself in those pockets of time he had with her, and in those moments, the burdens of Seoul and his idol life seemed to fade away.

He certainly wasn’t thinking about Seoul when she came by the day of the local Obon festival. The restaurant had closed early as everyone else was involved with the festivities in one way or the other, and he had stayed behind, making up a batch of fruit punch for the owners to try the next day. In the cool dimness of the restaurant, they tentatively tasted the sweetness of berries and melons on each other’s lips, as the sounds of chants and drums reverberated in the neighbouring streets.

He wasn’t thinking about anything else the other night either, as he walked Yume to the station after the close of dinner service, chatting comfortably as they strolled hand in hand along the streets. They had stopped when they heard some dull booms in the distance, and the night sky lit up with coloured glows.

“Ah, it’s the firework festival tonight!”

“Oh, it’s a pity we can’t see it from here.”

“I know a place where we may be able to see them - let’s go!” And she had grabbed Woohyun’s hand and ducked into the park, where true enough, there was a clearing with a view of the fireworks that exploded across the other side of the lake.

He had watched her with wonder as she smiled at the sight, her face glowing in the changing colours of the night, finding more pleasure in looking at her than the spectacle happening before him, and in that moment, he thought of nothing except of how lovely she was. And as the sparkles from the last firework dissipated into the darkness, he tugged her towards him, tilting her chin up to capture her lips in a gentle kiss.

He definitely wasn’t thinking about the future, that same night, when he asked her in between slow, sweet kisses, whether she really needed to go back to Tokyo. She had looked up at him then, a question in her eyes, and as he trailed his lips down her neck in a lingering caress, he asked if she’d like to come over to his place.

And later, his thoughts and senses were filled with her, only her, as he pressed into her, her soft moans in his ear urging him on, as they loved each other deep into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After pondering over it for a while, I decided to mix in a Japanese phrase when Woohyun and Yume finally introduce themselves to each other, instead of trying to finesse an English translation. The phrase "douzo yoroshiku onegaishimasu" has no equivalent in English that captures its various meanings. It is generally used as part of a standard polite formal introduction, and can mean "nice to meet you", but can also be seen to mean (amongst other things) "please take care of me".

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. This was originally a drabble, but when working on it as part of a writing pact with @little-piece-of-woohyun, it took on a life of its own, and has expanded. I’m not entirely sure yet how it’s going to run (though I do have an ending in mind), and as such, I’m not sure how many parts this is going to be yet. My guess is that it will be no more than 3 parts (more likely to be 2).
> 
> 2\. This fic was partly inspired by an exhibition staged by Yuki Tatsumi titled Japanese Tip of 8,000 chopstick sleeve sculptures left in restaurants (yes, I didn’t actually come up with this idea independently!)
> 
> 3\. This was not beta-ed, so my apologies for lapses in grammar, spelling or general writing.


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